


you are enough (i promise you)

by emilieee



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt and comfort, Identity Reveal, LadyNoir - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Pre Season 1, Soulmate AU, a bit of angst, adrienette - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:41:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24775549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilieee/pseuds/emilieee
Summary: In a world where your dreams are snapshots of your soulmate’s life through their eyes, Marinette’s dreams are lonely and quiet, where smiles and laughter have long been forgotten.Adrien dreams of light—where the air is charged with happiness and the warmth permeates through his dreams and seeps even into the coldness left behind by his mother’s disappearance.Then, one day, everything changes.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 98
Kudos: 909





	you are enough (i promise you)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying my hand at a soulmate AU, because why not? In short, your dreams are of your soulmate's day through their eyes, but you have to actually look them in the eye to find out who they are. 
> 
> Thank you BrenanaBread for beta-ing! This fic should be typo-free because of her.

Marinette wakes up with tears in her eyes. 

It’s always beyond her control. She lies in bed, staring at the ceiling with blurred vision, phantom thoughts from the dream still gripping her heart and refusing to let go. All of a sudden, her room, colorful as it is, feels extremely lonely. Her soulmate’s steady trickle of emotions still run through her like a current, and no matter  _ who  _ she surrounds herself with, that underlying melancholy never seems to leave. 

Taking a deep breath and wiping the tears from her face, she climbs down from the bed. 

Maybe today she’ll meet him. 

***

Adrien wakes up with the feeling of warmth fading around him. 

He squeezes his eyes shut in hopes of grasping a little more of it, but it’s already gone. His room is only artificially warm while his dream is warm with the smell of sweets and the thrill of laughter tumbling around. Here, silence makes the loudest noise of all, and turns even the hottest days cold. 

He breathes in, breathes out. He thinks back to the dream. Pink, all around—his soulmate’s life practically  _ revolves  _ around pink. It’s endearing; the color has grown on him since the dreams started. Adrien’s own room has started to adopt a splash of that pink in remembrance of her. 

Like he does every single morning, Adrien pushes the covers off himself and peers out of the window, hoping for a flash of pink. He wonders if she ever passes by below his window. 

Maybe she will, today.

***

_ The hardest moments are the ones when her soulmate sits alone at that long, long table.  _

_ Marinette looks down at her hands—not  _ her  _ hands anymore, but his—as they pick up the fork and knife and cut dutifully into the meal. He eats slowly, because he is waiting—he is waiting for somebody to join him.  _

_ The fork lifts to his mouth. He chews. Swallows. Stares at those giant, forlorn doors.  _

_ Nobody enters.  _

_ He lets out a ragged breath and forces himself to continue eating. His heart—no, her heart as well—is bleeding.  _

_ Disappointment hurts some, but hope hurts much more.  _

***

_ Adrien is always awed by the plethora of colors and scents in his soulmate’s life.  _

_ In the mornings, the sunbeams slant into her room and it positively glows, resplendent in light. He can hardly imagine some place so  _ lovely  _ exists. And this girl—with her laughter like bells—is  _ his  _ soulmate. The thought fills Adrien up with hope—the good sort.  _

_ His favourite moments are the ones when she’s in the bakery with her parents. Their features are blurred to him, but he feels their joy all the same. She joins them early in the morning, singing and dancing as they bake, and the happiness is the sort that leaves a sweet aftertaste long after it fades away.  _

_ Even if he knows that when he wakes up, he’ll be alone once more, at least he won’t be running on empty.  _

***

Fall, winter, spring, summer. They pass in the blink of an eye. Marinette keeps her eyes out for him, but she has no idea who he can be. Perhaps she will never meet him, because he’s always in that house. Perhaps she has met him already, but they have parted. 

She wonders if he will have to sit at that table alone all his life. 

***

Hope is a dangerous little thing. 

In the beginning, it’s refreshing and beautiful to cling onto. But with the seasons’ passing it becomes stale and cold, and every time Adrien tries to rekindle it, it steals a little bit more of himself. He hopes until it hurts, then hopes some more. 

Because even if the hope twists into his gut, if he doesn’t cling onto it, there’s nothing else he can hold. 

***

She still dreams of her soulmate, but they’re bleak and tired, and she can almost  _ feel  _ the hope he’s so desperately clinging onto fade breath by breath. She wants to tell him not to, wants to ask him where he is, wants to  _ be  _ there with him, but she can’t. The only thing Marinette can do is watch. 

So she does, until doubt starts gaining a larger foothold. Perhaps this is what is meant to be: the glimpses of his half-lived life in her dreams, the accompanying sadness that never goes away, this feeling of not being whole. Marinette will have to learn to live with it. 

Then, as the seasons fade to fall once more, Marinette finds a small box with a red, spiralling pattern on its lid.

***

What is once warmth turns into longing, and longing turns into pain. Adrien wakes up from his dreams with the warmth draining from him, the loneliness of the house leeching even the brightest of emotions.

The days melt into a mundane blur of lessons, of waiting and giving up. His father is scarcely seen; even Nathalie doesn’t have time for him outside the homeschooling. His nights are full of can’t-haves, and Adrien wakes up in the morning feeling emptier than the day before. He  _ tries— _ he really does. But it’s pointless. 

Then, as the leaves outside his house put on their autumn cloaks, Adrien finds a small, black box sitting on his desk and learns to hope again. 

***

The wind tears at Marinette’s face as she struggles to keep her balance. 

With a supersuit and magic, one would think that she’d be granted better coordination skills. But as the monster rampages through Paris, she  _ still  _ can’t use the yo-yo properly. It’s stupid, she thinks, to have a  _ yo-yo  _ as a weapon. Out of everything she could’ve ended up with, it’s just her luck to end up with the most useless thing. 

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Marinette lets loose the yo-yo once more. She can no longer see the creature, but the noise it’s making is deafening, as noticeable as the destruction it leaves in its wake. She gives the string one tug, and, finding it secure, throws herself towards the next building. 

Two things happen in quick succession. First, she catches a glimpse of a shadow streaking directly beneath her, and the lapse in concentration causes her to slip. She misses the landing, slams against the corner of the building, and tumbles. 

Marinette’s grip around her yo-yo loosens. She braces herself for the impact—what a  _ godawful  _ superhero she makes—but the landing isn’t harsh concrete and broken bones like she imagines. Instead, she’s snatched out of the air by a pair of arms—gingerly, the movements full of uncertainty—but it saves her from the fall. 

They hit the ground a second later. Her saviour ducks into a roll, lessening the impact, before they finally skid to a stop. 

For a moment, Marinette lays on the ground. The air feels like it’s been knocked out of her lungs and the adrenaline burns through her veins. Somebody rises beside her, giving her a glimpse of black in her periphery: it’s the shadow she had seen just before she’d toppled off the roof. 

A hand extends into her vision, cloaked in shadowy black. “Judging by your suit, I think we’re supposed to be partners,” a boy says. There’s a faint note of mirth in his voice. 

Marinette lets out a groan, but accepts the hand.  _ Partners— _ the little fairy (kwami? Tikki?) had informed her that she would have a partner. She allows the boy to pull her to her feet. His hand, despite the suit that covers both of them, is warm around hers. Marinette squints at his features as soon as they’re level. 

“I think,” the boy is saying, “that stone thing—” 

He breaks off. She sucks in her next breath and does not let it out. 

_ He’s sitting in front of a large window. Outside, people walk past the mansion, where iron gates separate him from the rest of the world. He counts the figures one by one, looking for someone he has never seen but  _ knows. 

_ He exists in a world that is simply cold: the faces around him, the voices that address him, the reality that he has found himself in. But he waits with far more hope than his world deserves: he waits for the tall, silver-haired man to join him at a table that is perpetually empty; he waits for the girl who has filled his dreams with so much warmth and beauty.  _

_ He waits for  _ her. 

***

Adrien meets a pair of clear blue eyes. 

The world splinters around him into a kaleidoscope of colors. 

_ She hunches over a sketchbook, one that is always tucked away safely in the corner of her desk. Inside, she draws what she can remember of her dreams; his room, his bed, even the long, empty table. There are sketches of large details, such as the grand staircase in the Agreste mansion. Then there are small things: the pencil holder on his desk, the little picture of his mother he keeps hanging on his wall. All of these are drawn in remembrance of him, so she can capture every little detail about her soulmate that she’s dying to meet.  _

_ She lives in a world that abounds with color and life, yet she still makes room for  _ him.  _ She thinks of him, she searches for him, she loves him. Even if they’ve never met. Even if her life is already so full of love, she still loves  _ him— _ loves the boy who pales in comparison to her, loves the boy who is broken and bruised and hurt.  _

_ But broken, bruised and hurt can be mended, and that mending can start now.  _

***

When the images fade from Marinette’s eyes and the boy in front of her comes back into view, she finally allows herself to breathe. 

They stare at each other for the longest time. His hair is spun of golden thread, reflecting the sunlight softly. Even the black of his suit doesn’t take away the colors. And all of a sudden, even if her life is _full_ of vibrancy, everything is grey compared to him. 

Because despite everything—the coldness of his house, the missing presence of his father and the pain of having lost his mother, his eyes brim with life. They are brilliant and beautiful, making Marinette’s breath catch again in her throat. She’s never seen his eyes—she’s seen  _ through  _ them only—and now she knows they are the brightest shade of green. 

“It’s you,” she whispers.    


“Yes,” he replies hoarsely, “I—I found you.” 

***

Adrien cannot look away from her eyes. 

They are the best sort of blue; the sort where the sky is clear and cloudless, like sunlight gleaming off the ocean. She is beautiful and radiant, and Adrien does not know  _ how _ she is his and he hers. He feels as if he’s known her for a lifetime, and for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t need to second-guess to know: she feels the same. 

He blinks, feeling his eyes misting. Tears follow not long after and Adrien reaches up to wipe at his cheeks. It's a fruitless effort because not long after, he’s crying in earnest. “Ah, sorry,” he murmurs, not quite managing to stop his voice from trembling. “I’ve thought a lot about what to say when I finally met you, and crying wasn’t on the list. It’s just… I almost gave up thinking I’d ever be able to meet you.” 

“Gave up?” she echoes. Her voice is just as he remembers it. It’s carried him through rough days more than once. 

“Yeah.” Adrien sniffles, but the tears still don’t stop. “I thought that maybe I would never find you. Or maybe you didn’t want to find me, because my dreams of you were always so full of vitality and I can’t even begin to compare to that, and—” 

She lifts up a hand and rests it gently on his cheek. He stills, words melting away. Her touch is featherlight but at the same time anchoring. He feels the world through her fingertips; he feels the beauty that he hadn’t seen before. 

“No,” she says fiercely. “I have  _ always  _ wanted to find you. And now, I’m so, so glad I did.” 

Adrien leans into her palm. Her gaze does not waver when she meets his eyes, and carefully, she draws her thumb under his eyes, brushing over wet cheeks. “I’m so glad,” she repeats, “that I found you.” 

All those days of loneliness and longing are swept away to mist. The feelings of inadequacy, the aching question if anybody truly  _ cares— _ her expression says it all.  _ You are enough.  _

And it’s worth it, the pain of waiting. Because he will wait all over again if just to meet her. 

***

They meet up once more after the akuma is defeated. There, standing on the rooftop, Marinette faces her soulmate once more. 

“Spots off,” she says, and simultaneously, he commands, “Claws in.” 

He doesn’t look much different without the suit. She recognizes him easily, even if it’s barely been an hour since they’ve formally met. She knows him deep down in her bones, singing in her blood, like the oxygen filling her lungs. 

“What’s your name?” she asks him. 

He stretches out his hands, a smile lifting the corners of his lips. “Adrien Agreste,” he tells her. “What’s yours?” 

Marinette takes his hand. It’s almost a ridiculous motion to follow through with, but she shakes it nevertheless. Silently, she vows to herself—he will never have to endure a meal alone, never have to face his loneliness  _ alone.  _ She won’t let him, and it’s a promise. 

***

Everything has changed, and Adrien knows. 

The meals he eats alone will never be truly lonely anymore. His dreams of her will no longer be wistful but genuinely bright, speaking of better things to come, because she is  _ here.  _

“Nice to meet you, Adrien Agreste,” she says, a brilliant smile alight on her face. “My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always appreciated :)
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [e-milieeee!](https://e-milieeee.tumblr.com/)
> 
> This fic was also inspired by a lovely piece of art by australet [here.](https://australet789.tumblr.com/post/154922180985/you-are-enough-these-little-words-somehow)


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